Season 9 Redux
by irisheyes77
Summary: What if John had chosen differently at the beginning of 'Audrey Pauley? Missing scenes from how season 9 could have been.
1. Chapter 1

Monica slowed the car down as she approached John's house. The car ride back to his place had been quiet, but not awkwardly so; they'd talked quite a bit at the bar. Putting the car into park, she turned to her partner and smiled.

"Thanks for the beer."

"Thanks for the lift."

They both unbuckled their seat belts. "So, big plans for the weekend?" she asked, hoping she didn't seem like she was prying.

"Oh, huge," he replied with a hint of sarcasm. "Microwave pizza, satellite TV."

At this, Monica laughed. "Wow, thanks for making my life sound exciting." She paused for a moment. "Maybe we both need pets. They say people with pets live longer."

"I was thinkin' about gettin' a cat," John replied.

"There's cat people and there's dog people," she said, giving him a look. "You are a dog person, John."

A small knot of anticipation formed in his gut as he replied playfully, "How do you figure?"

Monica debated with herself for a moment before taking the bait. "You're faithful, you're dependable, you're without guile…and you're very comfortable to be around." She blushed slightly, not believing she had just said these things to him and hoping he couldn't see how embarrassed she was. "So why a cat?"

He shrugged. "Low maintenance. They don't expect much from you, so you can't disappoint 'em."

Monica gave him a small smile. "I don't ever you see you disappointing anyone, John."

For a moment they looked at each other, the air between them thick with unspoken desire. John looked at her sitting there, radiant even in the dark confines of the car, and felt a strong desire to kiss her. Judging by the way she was looking at him, she felt it too.

Squelching every lingering fear, he leaned forward, their lips meeting over the center console of her car. His hand cradled her face as their mouths met, tongues dueling. The moment their lips met he knew that there was no going back now; his emotions were a runaway locomotive, all he could do was hold on and enjoy the ride.

He broke their kiss, both of them breathing heavily. "Come in," he said, his voice gravelly with desire.

She didn't need to be told twice. By the time she got the keys out of the ignition he was already out of the car, and he took her hand as they hurried up the front walk to the door. After a moment of fumbling he found his keys and opened the door, leading her inside.

The door had no sooner closed than Monica was pressed up against it, John's mouth on hers, his hands at her waist. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, wanting to feel all of him pressed against her. Breathing heavily, John kissed his way down to her neck, nipping and sucking at the soft skin as his hands traveled up her abdomen. When his hands found the band of her bra she leaned her head back on the door with a sigh. "John."

He merely grunted in response, his mouth still on her neck, one hand on her right breast. She sighed again; despite the ache between her thighs, she couldn't do this without knowing where they stood.

"John," she said again, this time pushing him back slightly, until she could see his eyes. "We have to stop."

A look of hurt mixed with confusion crossed his face.

"Not because I don't want this because, believe me, I do, but because I…I don't want you to regret this." She took his face in her hands. "I don't want this to be a one-night stand, John. I don't want us to go into the office tomorrow and have it be awkward."

He smirked. "Tomorrow's Saturday."

"You know what I mean." Monica bit her lip, uncertain as to whether or not to continue her train of thought. She wasn't sure she was ready to tell him the secrets in her heart. _Then you shouldn't have come inside, dumbass,_ she said to herself. She steeled herself and continued. "I don't think that if we do this, that we can go back to being just friends, John. I know I can't. I don't want this to be a one time thing, or even just a sex thing."

John sighed and rested his forehead against hers. "I know what you're askin' here, Mon. And honestly…I don't know."

She gave him a small smile. "I'm not asking for a declaration of love, John. All I'm asking is for you to let me in. To give me as much as you can. Can you do that?"

She looked so beautiful-her hair mussed, lips swollen, flush of arousal on her chest and neck-and knew he couldn't not do it. "Yeah. I can do that."

Her face lit up as she smiled. "Honest?"

"I ever lied to you?"

"Never."

"I don't plan on startin' now." He leaned in and kissed her again, slowly and tenderly. "'Course, that would make this our first date."

"You sure?" she replied with a smirk. "Because I don't put out on the first date."

John laughed. "You're killin' me here, Mon."

Monica gave him a coy look. "Well, maybe I could be…persuaded."

He kissed her again. "Did I ever tell you I make the best French toast in the Eastern time zone?"

"Do you now?" She began loosening his tie. "Does that mean I'm staying for breakfast?"

"I'd like it if you stayed all weekend." John's hands wandered under her shirt, sending chills up her spine.

"That's pretty persuasive." She removed his tie, letting it slide to the floor before starting on the buttons of his shirt. With a gentle push she moved him towards the stairs and he smiled, kissing her again.

They stumbled up the stairs, Monica untucking his dress shirt as they walked. She managed to get it off of him before the backs of her knees hit the mattress and she fell backwards. Reaching up, she pulled his t-shirt off before he leaned down to kiss her once again.

John's hands made quick work of her sweater and bra, and he looked down at her, his gaze travelling over her body. "You're beautiful," he whispered as his mouth moved in between the valley of her breasts.

"You're just saying that to get in my pants," she replied with a smile he could hear. His mouth descended on her nipple and she inhaled sharply. "It's working, by the way."

Hands fumbled with buttons and zippers until they were both naked, breathless with desire. He settled into the cradle of her hips and looked at her seriously.

"No going back," he said.

"Couldn't pay me to go back," she replied, wrapping her legs around his hips, sighing with pleasure as he slid into her.


	2. Improbable

Monica lay in bed, listening to the sounds of John brushing his teeth. She was tired and sore; she'd taken a nasty tumble when John had opened the stairwell door, and her hand and wrist were still smarting a little. Still, she was happy-the case was solved and the perp had gotten what was coming to him.

Beside her the phone rang, and she knew instantly who it would be; the only other person who would be calling her was already here. "Hello?"

"All right, I need to know." Scully sounded sheepish.

"What?"

"What my numerology is. My number. Whatever you call it. What am I?"

Monica had to smile; Scully was quite the contradiction sometimes. "You're a nine."

"Which means what?"

"Nine is completion. You've evolved through the experiences of all the other numbers to a spiritual realization that this life is only part of a larger whole." Silence. "Dana? Are you there?"

"There's something else that's bugging me."

"What's that?"

"Who was that man?"

"God knows."

Scully sighed. "Yeah."

Monica hung up the phone just as John emerged from the bedroom. "Who was that?" he asked, sliding into the bed and wrapping his arms around her.

"Dana. She wanted to know what her number was."

John rolled his eyes. "You don't believe this crap."

"I don't not believe it." She looked over at him. "Look, like anything else, I think the possibility that there is a truth to it exists."

He smirked. "What's your number?"

"Why, wanna analyze me?" she teased.

"Maybe."

"I'm a three."

"And what does that mean?"

She smiled. "Threes are sensitive, caring, open people who are good in social situations and make friends easily." With a coy smile, she moved to straddle his hips. "They're also very ardent, loyal lovers."

"Are they now?" John replied, sliding a finger up her thigh and under her nightgown, his eyes twinkling mischievously. When he reached the juncture of her thighs, he discovered she was not wearing any underwear, and he cocked an eyebrow at her. "I might have to investigate this claim further."

"Investigate away, Agent," Monica replied, giggling as John flipped her onto her back.


	3. Scary Monsters

The drive to Fairhope, Pennsylvania was a long one, and it was one John was really regretting having started. Once he found out that Agent Harrison had already called Scully, his annoyance level shot through the roof. He knew she could tell; she hadn't said a word for nearly an hour, until she asked him to find a restroom.

He watched in the rearview mirror as she walked through the snow to the convenience store, and lay his head back on the headrest. "I'm gonna kill her."

"No, you're not," Monica replied. "Because I'm going to do it first." With a sigh she opened her door and got out, stretching her legs.

John followed suit, walking around to Monica's side of the car. "I can't believe I let myself get talked into this."

"Why?" Monica asked with a playful look. "Big plans for tonight?"

"Yeah, actually," he replied. "I been seein' this woman, I was hopin' to take her out tonight."

Smiling, she took the bait. "Yeah? What's she like?"

"Tall, brunette."

"Funny, I always assumed you liked blondes." She leaned back against the car.

John shrugged. "Usually yeah, but this one…she's gorgeous. And smart." He stepped towards her, pulling her into a hug. "I was gonna take her out to a nice dinner, maybe take her to a movie."

"Sounds nice. She's lucky." Monica looked up at him and smiled. "Very lucky."

Just as John leaned over to kiss her, he caught a glimpse of movement out of the corner of his eye. He and Monica jumped apart, looking sheepish.

"Take my gun," she whispered to John. "Because if this turns out to be nothing, I will kill her."

"Don't wanna do that."

"Why not?"

"No conjugal visits in federal prison," he replied with a smirk.

* * *

><p>The drive back to DC was better, if only because they'd pawned off Agent Harrison and her boyfriend on Scully.<p>

"First kiss?" Monica asked, in an attempt to keep them both awake.

The corner of John's mouth quirked into a smile. "Paula Long, under the bleachers at the homecoming game. She let me get to second base."

"How very all-American."

"You?"

"Miguel Hernandez. He was 17." Monica smiled, remembering. "I, however, was much too young to be kissing him. And no, he didn't get to second base."

"Poor bastard."

Monica chuckled. "At 13, I didn't exactly have a second base to speak of." She made a face. "Still waiting for them, actually."

John laughed. "No complaints here. More'n a mouthful is a waste."

"John!" she said, her face burning. "I cannot believe you just said that."

"What? It's true."

Trying desperately to contain her embarrassed laughter, she replied, "Well, on behalf of the rest of the Itty Bitty Titty Committee, I thank you." Monica leaned her head back against the headrest. "I cannot believe we are having this conversation."

"You started it."

"That's right, blame me." She looked at him with a smile. "Might as well go all in."

John chuckled. "You don't do anything half-assed, do you?"

"Nope." She was silent for a moment, thinking. "First time?"

"Susan Taylor. Sixteen, in the back of my dad's pickup."

Monica laughed. "Romantic."

"Uncomfortable. Your turn."

"Daniel Ortiz. Fifteen, his little sister's bed." She made a face. "The first mistake in a very long series of mistakes." She sighed. "Weirdest place?"

John smiled. "I'm not what you would call adventurous, Mon."

"We can fix that," she replied with a grin. "Shower? Kitchen table? Bathroom at a bar?"

"Shower."

Monica smiled. "Airplane bathroom. And it's not as fun as it would seem."

John checked the clock, gauging the snowfall. "We'll never make it back to DC tonight, not in this weather."

"Yeah, you're right."

John pulled off the highway at the first hotel he saw and got them a room. As soon as they were inside, Monica flopped down on the bed without even removing her coat. "John, the next time Agent Harrison has a 'case' for us, tell her we're busy."

He threw his coat over a chair and proceeded to remove his shoes. "You got that right."

Monica sat up with a yawn and began to get undressed. "Well, at least now we know why the father kept the boy locked up. And really, now that I think about it, that kid was creepy."

"You're too kind." Dressed only in his boxers, he threw his t-shirt to Monica before sliding into the bed. "That kid's gonna end up bein' a serial killer."

Monica put John's shirt on and slid into bed next to him, putting her head on his chest. "If I said I was too tired for sex, would that mean I'd get my dinner and a movie tomorrow night?"

"If you want." He kissed her head.

"I do." She sighed happily and snuggled into him.


	4. William

She couldn't sleep. Looking over at John, she sighed and got up, throwing on his discarded dress shirt from that day before heading down into his kitchen.

As quietly as she could, she put some water in the microwave to boil and began searching the cupboards for the box of tea she had left the last time she stayed over. While waiting, she sat at the counter and thought about Dana.

She loved that child more than anything, wanted to keep him safe, and Monica understood that she felt as though she couldn't do it. But Dana was the strongest woman she knew, and she couldn't understand why she would give up so easily.

The microwave beeped, and she got up to retrieve her water, sinking her teabag into it and letting it steep. Monica made her way into the living room, sitting down on the couch, cradling the mug in her hands.

She heard John's footsteps on the stairs, and a moment later he was next to her on the couch. "You okay?"

"Can't sleep."

"Thinkin' about Dana."

"Yeah."

He ran a hand through his hair with a sigh. "I don't get it either, Mon. But it's not our place to tell her she made a mistake."

"I know." Monica set the mug down on the table and leaned into him, her head on his shoulder. "I'm going to miss him."

"I know." His fingers rubbed a gentle circle on her thigh. "You were good with him. He liked you."

Monica sniffled. "Dana said I was the only person he ever smiled for."

"You're the only person I ever smile for," he replied, and she chuckled.

"Not true. You smile a lot more now that you're getting laid regularly."

"You callin' me uptight?" he asked, pretending to be hurt.

"Never." She laughed and pulled him to her for a kiss.

Sliding his hand up her shirt, he gently pulled her into his lap. One hand began to tease a nipple and she sighed, breaking their kiss. As his hand continued its ministrations, she buried her head in his neck, nipping at the skin there as her hands felt their way up and down his bare chest.

John unbuttoned her shirt and removed it, running his hands up and down her bare back, chuckling when she jumped as he reached the ticklish spot on her hip.

Monica looked at him, feigning anger. "That's gonna cost you."

"I'll gladly pay."

Kissing him again fiercely, her hands traveled to the waist of his shorts, dipping inside them to tease him. "One of us is wearing too many clothes."

Placing his hands firmly on her ass, he stood. Surprised, she shrieked with laughter as he carried her upstairs.


	5. Jump the Shark

Monica picked at her salad, hungry but not really feeling like eating. Funerals had a way of doing that to her.

"Frohike asked me out once," she said, poking at her salad.

John stopped, burger halfway to his mouth. "Yeah? You go?"

"Yes."

His eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really?" He'd never considered the short, balding man to be competition for Monica's affections.

"Yeah. We went to the Kennedy Center, he took me to see _La Boheme_." She sighed, an almost wistful smile on her face.

John felt a stab of jealousy, even though he knew how ridiculous it was. "Opera?"

She nodded. "Yeah. It was really…nice."

"Did you…" John hated himself the minute the words left his mouth. It was none of his business, he knew it, but he still wanted to know.

"Sleep with him?" Monica asked, giving John a smile. "No." She looked back down at her salad. "He knew I was…in love with someone else."

In love with someone else? The words made John's heart speed up. Was she still in love with that asshole Folmer?

He must have spoken out loud, because she looked up at him, a look of surprise on her face. "Brad? No." She laughed. "Not even."

"Who?"

The look Monica gave him was incredulous. "You are not that dense, John."

It took him a moment to realize she meant him, but when he realized what she had said the words hit him like a ton of bricks. She loved him. _She_ loved _him_.

"Oh." He sat there like a moron, burger in hand, staring at her. What could he say to that? It's not like he didn't know, but really…he hadn't _known_. She'd never said those words to him before, and it made him both nervous and excited.

Embarrassed, Monica wouldn't meet his eyes. "Oh? That's all you can say?" Tears burned her eyes, threatening to fall. She cursed herself; this was _not_ how this was supposed to go.

John sighed. "Mon…" he started, then stopped. He wasn't sure what to say. He cared for her deeply, as more than just a partner, but he wasn't ready to love anyone yet.

Reaching for her bag, she threw ten dollars on the table and stood up. "I'm going home."

"Monica…fuck." He watched as she walked out, ignoring the little voice inside him screaming at him to follow her. Instead, he sat and finished his burger, hating himself more with every bite.

* * *

><p>Monica sat on her couch, feet tucked up under her as she watched a mindless television show. Every once and awhile she sniffled, hating herself for crying. She wasn't sure who she was more mad at-John, for being honest, or herself, for believing he could ever love her.<p>

There was a knock on her door and she sighed, standing up to answer it. John stood there with a bouquet of black-eyed susans, looking unsure.

"Can I come in?" he asked quietly.

Monica just walked away from the door, leaving it open for him to follow. She sat back down on the couch and looked at him, her eyes red-rimmed from crying.

"I'm sorry." He looked helpless and genuinely upset, which buoyed her spirits somewhat. "I'm a moron."

"What exactly are you sorry for, John?"

He sighed.

"What are we doing, John?" she asked, her voice breaking. "Am I just someone to keep you occupied because I'm a good fuck?"

Her words hit him like a slap across the face. "Is that all you think this is, Monica? You think I'm here just for that?"

"I have no idea."

He laughed. "You really think I'm the kinda guy who fucks his partner because he's lonely?"

"Then why are you here?" Monica stood up, walking towards him angrily. "Here to pretend you care about me?"

"Pretending? I'm not pretending anythin'!" he shouted. "I told you I'd give you what I could, what I was able to, and that's what I've done, Monica. That's all you asked of me, and I did it. What more do you want from me? You want me to tell you I love you? You really want that? Because everyone I have ever said that to has left me, and-" he stopped, tears stinging his eyes. "And I can't lose you."

Monica stood there, stunned.

"So you wanna know why I'm here? Because I care, Monica. More than you know. And these last few months have been the best of my life."

"Will you ever be able to say it?" she asked.

He sighed. "Yeah. I will. But I need some time."

Monica sniffled. "Okay." Stepping towards him, she wrapped her arms around his waist.

"We okay?" he asked, stroking her hair.

"Yeah, we're good." She laughed. "I must be a sight."

Pulling back, he looked at her-red eyes, mussed hair-and said with all honesty, "You're the most beautiful woman in the world to me."

"Sweet talker." She looked at the flowers he had brought, which were lying on her coffee table. "Thanks for the flowers."

"They reminded me of you." He kissed her forehead. "I'm gonna go."

"No." She grabbed his hand. "Stay."

"You sure?"

"Yeah."


	6. Release

"Would you be mad at me if I bailed on tonight?" Monica asked as they drove home from Mark Mooney's. "Dana asked me to help her pick out a gift for her mother…I think she just wants some company."

"No, you ladies have fun."

"I could come over afterwards?" she said.

"Don't even worry about it," he replied, squeezing her knee. "You go out and have fun, don't worry about this old man. I got pizza and satellite TV, I'll be just fine."

"You're not old."

"Says you. My knees say otherwise."

Monica suppressed a grin, remembering just how his knees had gotten so sore. "Poor baby, looks like I'll have to make it up to you." She leaned over and whispered in his ear, "After all, you were very, very generous last night, the least I can do is repay you in kind."

John laughed. "I'm gonna hold you to that," he said, pulling up in front of her apartment.

"I hope so." She leaned in and kissed him soundly. "See you in the morning, we'll go over the stuff we have on Regali."

* * *

><p>John caught up with his ex-wife on the stairs of the police station. "I feel bad draggin' you out here," he said. "Let me buy you lunch before you go."<p>

She turned to him, searching his face, finding only a genuine invitation. "Sure."

They walked in companionable silence to a tiny deli between the police station and the Hoover Building. Once they had ordered and were seated, John spoke.

"I thought we had him this time."

Barbara smiled wryly. "You always think you have him this time."

He sighed and ran a hand over his face.

"John," she said, taking his hand, "you can't let this eat you up inside like it does. I know that you want to find who did this to Luke, but sometimes…we don't get answers."

John gave a sad laugh.

"You think if you find whoever did this, that it will make you feel like you're not a bad father. But you never were a bad father, John. You were a great dad. Whether or not you find this guy isn't going to change that."

The bell on the door tinkled and Monica walked in, not seeing them sitting in the back. John watched as she ordered, giving the guy behind the counter a bright smile. He always liked to flirt with her, and Monica could never resist flirting back.

Barbara turned and saw what John was looking at, and she smiled knowingly. "How long are you going to keep her out, John?"

The tips of his ears turned red. "I don't know what you're talkin' about."

"The hell you don't," she replied with a laugh. "Of all the people who helped us-cops, feds-she's the only one you ever really talked to, kept in touch with. But you still won't let her in."

John was pretty sure Monica could feel his eyes on her, and his suspicion was confirmed when she turned and saw him sitting with his ex-wife. She gave him a hesitant smile but made no move to come over.

"She's a nice woman, John. And it was clear, even from the beginning, that she cared about you deeply." Barb beckoned for Monica to come over, and Monica hesitated for a moment before walking towards them. Barb turned back to John. "No offense, John, but if you let her get away, you're a fool."

Monica smiled at them nervously. "Hi."

The man behind the counter called John's name, and he practically leapt from his seat like he had a spring in his ass.

Barb rolled her eyes with a smile. "How are you, Monica? You're looking well."

"Thanks. I'm…good. You?"

"Can't complain." Barbara looked at her steadily. "Don't give up on him yet, Monica. He'll come around."

Monica was stunned into speechlessness.

John returned, his eyes darting from his ex-wife to his partner as he sat down.

The man behind the counter called Monica's name, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding. "That's me. Nice to see you again, Barbara."

John gave his ex-wife a look. "What'd you say to her to make her sprint outta here like that?"

She smiled at him. "I'm sure you'll find out soon enough."

* * *

><p>Monica leaned against her car, watching as John and Barbara scattered Luke's ashes into the sea. The past week had been so hard on John, she hoped that this would bring him the closure she knew he craved.<p>

She watched as Barbara approached, and gave the woman a hesitant smile.

Barbara stopped in front of Monica, a sad smile on her face. "I think he's finally come around." She gave her ex-husband one last glance. "Take good care of him."

"I will."

Barbara walked to her car, and Monica turned back towards the beach, watching as John climbed up the sand to where she stood, waiting for him. When he reached her he looked at her for a moment before pulling her into his arms.

Monica held him tightly, letting every feeling she had for him wash over her, hoping he could feel it.

After a long moment he pulled back, looking at her. "Let's go home."

She nodded and slid into the driver's seat, pulling the car out of the parking lot. Once they were on the road, he took one of her hands off the wheel and laced his fingers with hers.

Neither of them spoke. They didn't need to.

* * *

><p>Monica pulled up in front of his house and put the car in park. Turning to him, she bit her lip anxiously. "If you want to be alone, I understand."<p>

John looked at her. "Come inside."

She followed him into the house, and was surprised when he pulled her close again, crushing her to him.

He buried his face in her neck, his breath warm on her skin. "I love you."

Monica pulled back to look at him, eyes shining with unshed tears. "Say it again."

John put his forehead to hers and looked into her eyes. "I love you." A single tear ran down her cheek, and he wiped it away with his thumb. "I love you."

Through her tears she smiled. "I have waited so long to hear you say that."

"I'm sorry you had to wait."

"It was worth it."

He kissed her tenderly. "Stay tonight. Stay every night."

"Yes," she whispered against his lips. "Yes."


	7. Sunshine Days

The elevator doors slid open, and Scully heaved a small sigh as she walked down the hallway to the basement office. Everything was as normal until she heard…whistling?

Peeking her head into the office, she was surprised to see the male agent sitting at his desk, whistling happily as he poked away at the computer. "Agent Doggett?"

"Mornin', Agent Scully," he said, then resumed his whistling.

Scully paused, her brow furrowed in confusion. Her confusion grew when she figured out he was whistling 'I've Got the World on a String.' Now genuinely concerned, she sat her briefcase down on his desk and approached him, placing a hand on his forehead. "Are you feeling okay?"

He laughed. "I'm in a good mood and you think I'm sick?"

Scully smiled. "Well, it's…unusual. Now what was that favor you wanted from me?"

"Got a call about a kid gettin' killed in Los Angeles, his friend said this guy…Blake McCormack, was thrown through the roof of some guy's house."

"Okay."

He laughed. "Yeah, I don't think it's an X-File either, but I said we'd go, check it out. I'm havin' the LAPD send the body to Quantico, I want ya to take a look at it, see if there's anythin' unusual about it."

"Sure. When do you leave for California?"

He checked his watch. "Our flight's not until this afternoon."

The elevator dinged in the hallway, and a moment later Monica bustled in, towing her suitcase behind her. "Morning," she said brightly, settling her bags in a corner before taking off her jacket.

John stood and put the case file on her desk. "You want a coffee?"

"Sure, thanks."

He looked at Scully, who shook her head.

Whistling again, he headed out to the elevator.

Once Scully was sure he was gone, she turned to Monica. "He seems…chipper."

Monica laughed. "That's one word for it," she replied, opening the file.

Scully watched her friend, the wheels in her mind turning. John was in an unusually good mood, and Monica was nonplussed by it. She had a sneaking suspicion that there was something personal going on with them.

Monica, noticing Scully's staring, looked up. "Something the matter?"

"No, not at all." She bit back a smile. "Anyway, tell John I'll call him when I get the body, and we can go from there."

"No problem."

Scully picked up her briefcase and headed out, passing a whistling Agent Doggett in the hallway. He gave her a nod and a wink as he passed, and this time she didn't fight the grin on her face.

"Oh yeah," she said to herself after the elevator doors closed. "They're so doing it."

* * *

><p>Monica stretched languidly in the hotel room bed, smiling as John's hand ran up the inside of her thigh. "Again?" she said with a laugh. "God, you're like a seventeen year old."<p>

After their initial investigation and speaking with the victim's friend, they had nothing to do but wait. They'd scheduled a videoconference with Scully for five pm their time, which gave them several hours to kill. They had wasted no time in getting back to the hotel.

"You make me feel seventeen again," he replied, kissing her soundly as his hand reached its intended destination.

She smiled and sighed as his fingers did delightful things to her nether regions. "If you want me to keep up this pace, you're going to have to feed me."

As if on cue, Monica's stomach growled loudly, and John laughed.

"I get the hint." He stood and pulled on his discarded boxers. "Whaddya want? Salad?"

"I'd kill for a bacon cheeseburger."

"Burgers it is."

Monica watched him get dressed, smiling serenely.

"You okay?" he asked.

"Never been better."

He sat down on the bed to tie his shoes, then leaned over and brushed a stray lock of hair behind her ear. "How 'bout we have a nice, romantic dinner tonight."

"I don't think our per diem covers that," she replied.

John chuckled. "C'mon, let's live a little." He stroked her cheek. "I want to be able to walk down the street holdin' your hand."

Monica felt a rush of love for him and smiled, pulling him back into the bed. "Stay here and hold me."

"What about your lunch?"

She settled into his arms and closed her eyes. "Suddenly, I'm not hungry anymore."

* * *

><p>Monica stood in front of the bathroom mirror, brushing her teeth. In the mirror she could see John changing out of his suit and into something more comfortable for their evening out.<p>

She smiled as he came up behind her, placing a hand on her hip. "Close your eyes," he whispered into her ear.

Puzzled, she did as she was told, toothbrush sticking out of her mouth. She felt John's breath on her skin as something cool and smooth slid around her neck. "Can I open them yet?" she garbled through a mouth full of toothpaste.

"Yeah, open 'em."

Monica's eyes fluttered open and she saw the delicate silver heart resting just on her collarbone. It twinkled, even in the harsh light of the bathroom. She met John's eyes in the mirror, her toothbrush clattering to the sink as she turned and kissed him.

"I guess this means you like it," he said with a smile, wiping toothpaste off of her face.

"It's…lovely." She felt herself tearing up. "I…I'm not used to this."

"Well, get used to it."

He walked out of the bathroom, and she leaned towards the mirror, admiring her new piece of jewelry.

* * *

><p>Dana and Monica stood off to the side of the busy lunch counter, waiting for their order to be called. Dana noticed the other agent was playing with her necklace-obviously a new acquisition, as Monica wasn't one to wear much jewelry. Her Spidey-sense tingling, Dana spoke.<p>

"Your necklace is lovely. Is it new?"

Monica flushed slightly. "Yeah, a gift."

Scully raised one eyebrow, fighting a smile. "Quite the gift. John has good taste." Monica's eyes widened in surprise, and finally Dana allowed herself to smile. "No wonder John's been in a good mood."

"You're not going to-"

Dana held up her hand. "Please. I'm the last person to lecture you about sleeping with your partner."

Monica nodded.

"Is this a recent development?"

"Not really. Since…late February?"

Now it was Dana's turn to be surprised. "Four months! Four months and you didn't tell me."

Monica laughed. "When was I supposed to tell you? Not like we get a lot of time for girl talk, Dana."

"True." She looked at Monica. "I can see you're happy."

"Yeah. I am."

"Good."

"Promise me something, Monica."

She gave Scully a quizzical look. "What?"

"That…if things progress, you won't keep that a secret from me."

Monica grinned. "Promise."


	8. The Truth

John gunned the SUV down the highway, even though the black helicopters had disappeared as quickly as they had appeared. When he was convinced they were safe-momentarily, at least-he slowed down and so as not to draw the attention of any cops.

"Shit!" He slammed his hands on the steering wheel. "The hell have we done? God knows where they are, where they're goin', and we know what's waiting for us back in DC."

Monica sighed. "We don't know for sure."

"What, those black helos not enough of a clue?" John sighed. "Mulder knows somethin', somethin' big enough to want him dead over. You think they're gonna let him go so easily? Or us, if they think we know anything?"

"I didn't say that," she replied. "But I highly doubt Skinner would let them do much to us. They've already closed the X-Files, we know we're going to be separated. The only thing we don't know is if we'll be fired or transferred."

They drove in silence for what felt like hours, until they came across a road sign for the interstate. Instead of taking the exit towards St. Louis, John headed for the one marked Las Vegas.

"John?" Monica said, her brow furrowing. "You're going the wrong way."

"The hell I am." He turned to her, his blue eyes solemn. "They can close the X-Files, they can give us new partners, but I'll be damned if I let them take you away from me."

It took a minute, but once his words sank in, she smiled. "You seem awfully sure I'll accept." When his eyebrows shot up, she laughed. "I'm kidding."

"Christ Monica, don't do that to me!" He looked over at her and his irritation dissipated immediately. "Shit. You really had me goin' there for a moment."

"Sorry." She bit her lip anxiously, a trait John found endearing. "So uh, I suppose this would be a good time to mention that I'm pregnant."

John looked at her. "If you're yankin' my chain-"

"Nope, one hundred percent serious." Monica smiled uneasily. "Surprise?"

The SUV screeched to a halt on the shoulder. John put it into park and turned to her. "Pregnant."

"Knocked up, up the pole, with child, preggo, however you want to put it."

"When did you find out?" His face was expressionless.

"Last week I went for my annual exam and…surprise."

John got out of the car, shutting the door forcefully before leaning against it. Inside the car, Monica sat, fearing she had ruined everything. Just as she was about to cry, John flung the door open and pulled her out, crushing her to him.

"Jesus Mon, you really don't do anything half-assed," he said, laughing through tears. "When…how…" he pulled back to look at her. "And you went into this knowin' and not tellin' me? You could have been hurt, you could have…"

"John." She put her hands on either side of his face. "I'm fine. The baby is fine."

"You're gettin' a desk job when we get back to DC." She opened her mouth to argue, but he stopped her with a finger on her lips. "No arguin' with me on this one, Mon."

Despite herself, she smiled. "Fine. But once this kid comes out, I make no promises."

John broke into the biggest, most beautiful smile she had ever seen. "We're havin' a baby."

"We're having a baby."

Leaning in, John kissed her deeply. "Let's go get hitched."


End file.
